FireFly
by BehindTheMasqueradeMask
Summary: "You shouldn't have gotten involved." John and Bobby are framed in a terrorist bombing and with the X-men unable to help, the two flee New York before the FBI arrest them. Their friendship is tested as they travel to Boston, a safe haven as they prove their innocence. However, the actual culprit isn't far behind and their identity will test John's loyalty to the limit. X2 AU
1. A Harmless Prank Turns Explosive

**I seriously have to stop these new ideas...**

**okay, so basically this is an AU set before X 2, and it won't be following the film or the films after it. What happened was I began watching a show in youtube called 'Traveler', a friend had recommended it to me and I as soon as I started watching it I realised, hey that's Aaron Stanford! **

**so yeah, after watching five episodes non-stop this idea popped into my head and I had to write it down.**

**Traveler is so good! I recommend it myself as it is in parts on youtube, I don't know what ABC were thinking because it is such an amazing show and shouldn't have been cancelled. **

**Anyway, enough of that, here it is, I don't know when i'll next write more on this, but I kinda have some sort of story set up, I don't know tell me whether this should be continued.**

**Disclaimer: I only own OCs. **

**With that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

It was an arid midmorning in New York City. Pigeons flocked in lush parks and atop the gigantic skyscrapers that stood proudly above the honking horns of their inhabitants, curses being shouted in every street and junction.

Two boys stomped down the busy streets, breathing heavily but never slowing as they seemed to run for their lives. The two could be confused as being in a sprint race, incidentally, they had been in one only thirty minutes earlier, but it wasn't a race as one toppled over an elderly woman's shopping trolley, the kind that they dragged around with checked patterns.

The brunette groaned as he smacked straight into the cemented concrete, face first as his hands were unable to stop himself from hitting the slab. He felt pain shock through his ankle, and of course his face, already tasting the metallic tang of blood seep into his mouth.

"Watch were yer going you hooligans!" The elderly woman screeched, though it was hard to decipher what she was actually trying to say, as it sounded more like crazed grumbles. Nonetheless, she placed her trolley back on its wheels, shot a disgusted look at the blonde boy who was with the brunette, and carried on her slow amble towards the park to feed the pigeons.

The blonde-haired boy hastily knelt down and hauled his accomplice off the ground, grunting as the brunette became slightly limp as he shivered uncontrollably. He had a cut on his top lip, nothing serious, but crimson liquid dripped into his mouth to create the metallic taste.

"Come on John, we have to get out of here!" The blonde said hysterically, eyes wide with fear as the boys began running for their lives again, although the brunette, John, found he was a lot slower as his ankle felt dislodged slightly.

However once they were three blocks down, the boys stopped as their legs nearly gave way. They gasped, bent over as they rested their hands on their wobbling knees, both having images of the recent catastrophe they had just witnessed.

_"I am reporting from outside the American museum of natural history which was subjected to a catastrophic explosion half an hour ago, the casualties at this time are unknown, however, the police are on hand and they are not ruling out the use of a bomb."_

The boys immediately snapped their heads to the multiple TV screens. Every shape and size, all of them held the moving image of a clean-cut woman reporting outside a building with smoke and flames still bellowing out of the windows. The boys felt sick to the pit of their stomachs.

They had been in that museum little over half an hour earlier.

_"This footage was released just now, showing two Caucasian males fleeing the scene seconds before the explosion. These are believed to be the prime suspects of the bombing, and police are urging anyone who has any information to contact the authorities immediately."_

The boys physically gagged as they saw their own faces publicised on the TV screens, the footage taken just as they pushed past a hoard of people in the entrance to the museum that was now a burning wreck. It was simple black and white CCTV footage, but it panicked the boys beyond limit as they suddenly became aware of anyone giving them a passing glance.

"She's talking about it! She's talking about _us_!" John screeched hysterically as he turned to the blonde, his crystal eyes never leaving the TV screen, glued to his own face in the pixelated footage.

"Calm down!" He whispered harshly at John, eyes snapping up and down the pavement they were on, to see if anyone was in hearing distance of John's sudden panic-stricken outburst. He finally turned to John, trying to look relatively calm even though every ounce of him was scared out of his mind.

But John _was_ petrified, the dilated eyes, the horrified face. The blonde had never seen the look on his friend's face before, and with the added extra of a cut top lip and other scars slicing into the flesh, he couldn't have looked more suspicious even if he tried.

"Look, the more we panic the more people are going to notice us." The blonde said extremely calmly, but it just earned John to wear a frown and start jabbering quickly.

"Notice us?! Bobby, we are _all_ over the news, nearly half the city has probably seen our faces by now!" He argued back, but remembered to be more quieter so it sounded like a very fast whisper.

"Maybe, but it's been only half an hour, I'm pretty sure only a quarter of people have seen it. If anything, the main thing we have to do is get off the streets, go somewhere secluded until we can think of a plan." Bobby compromised strategically, but he honestly thought he sounded crazy.

Everything was crazy. The last thirty minutes were crazy. They were being accused as terrorists for christ's sake! They were seventeen! He doubted whether either of them even knew how to make a bomb let alone _plant_ one!

"And where exactly is secluded? Where're in fucking _New York_ if you hadn't noticed!" John said with vicious sarcasm, though Bobby was satisfied to hear the old sarcasm of his best friend, it made everything less surreal.

He was right though, it _was_ New York, there was no such thing as a secluded area, and if there was it was full of drug dealers and backstabbers that would sell them out for a few bucks. But then his rushed mind came up with a very simplistic-sounding plan, at least in his confined head it was simplistic.

"We find a cheap hotel and pretend to buy a room for the night, we can hold up there until we think of a plan and then leave out a back door or something." He said, actually quite proud of his intuition, but as always, John hastily questioned his course of action.

"What and you have money do you?" John snorted in disbelief as he cupped his hands over his nose and mouth, as if in prayer. He wasn't praying, he was just trying to do anything to stop his racing heart, needing to keep moving as adrenaline pumped through his entire mutated bloodstream.

But then a rare (forced) smirk crept onto Bobby's face. He twisted to the side slightly, to show John a backpack strewn over his one shoulder. John literally began thanking god as he stared opened-mouthed at the glorious backpack.

"I never thought I would say this...but I am so freaking glad you take that thing everywhere with you." John said with a lot more enthusiasm than moments before, Bobby huffed a non-existent laugh for a brief moment before everything became serious again.

"We gotta find one quick, who knows how long it'll take for someone to recognise us." Bobby said with a tightened jaw, and for once he actually saw seriousness on John's face as he tightened his own.

"I'm sure I remember one being a block from here, it's dead cheap, follow me." He commanded, quickly glancing around at everyone suspiciously before speed-walking past Bobby and down the road. Bobby hesitated for a moment, and then followed his friend's quickening pace as he gripped the strap of his backpack even tighter, not going to let anyone take it away from him.

* * *

_(An hour earlier)_

"They seriously expect us to walk around some stupid museum for four fucking hours?" John whined next to Bobby, the two students sulking boredly at the back of the group. In truth Bobby was likely just as bored as John, but like the polite student he was, he pretended to be interested as Professor Monroe stood beside a replica of a Sabretooth cat as she explained in geographical detail on how the now extinct creatures lived and thrived.

Bobby just wore his usual icy stare, arms folded over his chest, desperately trying to drone out John's constant whining. That was what made the school trip increasingly uninteresting, John's sarcastic or (put simply) jerky comments as he moaned in every breath he took. Of course they were best friends, and Bobby did find some of his comments rather funny, but most of the time they just crawled under his skin and caused immense irritation.

A perfect example would be when the cocky pyromaniac decided it would be interesting to see what would happen when Bobby and John's mutations collided, the scientific test thus caused steam which set off all the alarms in the last school trip, this being to the same damn museum they were in. Of course, Bobby argued that John had a knack of persuading him into things, though every time he wondered how.

"Keep that frown up and you'll freeze it in place, oh wait, you have already _Iceman_." John said sarcastically before snickering at his own joke, although not as humorous and strategic as he usually was, it still caused the same irritation that forced Bobby to tighten his jaw and sigh.

"Just shut up will you. It's bad enough Rogue isn't here, I don't need you whining in my ear every five seconds." Bobby grumbled hastily, only to have Professor Summers snap his head to the two, silently warning them to keep quiet unless they wanted the trip to be caught short.

But in all honesty, that wasn't a bad thing.

Even with the threat already said, the brunette pushed his luck further and wore a poor innocent face as he slowly pulled out his lighter. Concealing it by his side, he flicked it on and turned the burning flame into a flaming ball in his right hand, holding it in the space between Bobby and himself. He hastily put the lighter away again, making sure the flame was switched off (as in the past he hadn't and found that his trousers were scorched), and then proceeded to make the flame hotter and hotter.

Bobby never noticed this, concentrating all of his dreary senses on Professor Monroe as she still spoke about the Sabretooth cat, however his mind merely thought about Rogue.

She had refused to go on a school trip after an incident in which a young boy had accidentally bumped into her, the exposed flesh of her elbow connecting with his head, only for half a second, but the boy still had to be rushed to hospital. He survived, thankfully, but Rogue's paranoia was bad at the best of times and thought it was best if she just stayed at the school until she could properly control her mutation.

He understood and agreed it was a good idea, but he didn't necessarily like it, and being with John on a school trip for five hours wasn't what he'd call _enjoyable_.

Suddenly his eyebrows creased, a heated sensation on the side of his thigh, like it was melting the skin under the layer of denim fabric. He hissed and actually jumped to the side to get away from the growing heat, earning John to have extremely quick reflexes as he scrunched his hand into a fist, engulfing the flame and thus destroying it.

However, everyone snapped the eyes to the two, even the students who were mimicking zombies as they half-listened the Professor Monroe's monotone voice. Said Professor Monroe, flicked her long white hair as she glared at the two elemental mutants. Professor Monroe wasn't exactly a strict teacher, but when it came to students disrupting her talks, she could get rather scary, rather quickly.

"John, Bobby, pay attention." She snapped, even though it seemed too soft to be considered an order. Nonetheless, Bobby stood stiffly as he nodded his head in time with John's.

"Yes Miss." They said in unison, earning a few giggles from the younger students in the group.

Everyone hastily went back to the original boring tour, Professor Summers gazing at the two judgingly for ages before marching off to likely find Dr Grey. When the group began walking towards another exhibit, John hastily snatched Bobby's arm and dragged him towards the opposite end, escaping through the entrance they had come through and out into the gigantic first hall of the museum.

When they reached the colossus structure of a fossilised triceratops, Bobby flicked his hand out of John's grip, physically forcing the brunette to twist around to face him. He looked confused and a little irritated by Bobby's quick reflexes, to which Bobby replied by asking a question with an exceedingly annoyed tone.

"What the hell were you thinking back there? Do you have any idea what trouble you couldn't gotten us into if the fire alarms had gone off?" Bobby scolded harshly, never been so angry at John for a long time. The laid back brunette just answered with a shrug of his shoulders, his care free attitude not helping Bobby's paranoia and increasing rage.

"Nothing I haven't been in before, and look, it got us out of that dinosaur bullshit didn't it? We can do anything for the next four hours, just as long as we stay out of Cyclops' way." He argued, raising his hands in a surrendering way as he talked, his tone revealing no care about getting caught.

Bobby sighed, rubbing the spot in between his eyes as a headache formed. He expected nothing less from John, but he promised Rogue he wouldn't let the pyromaniac force him into trouble, not after the steam incident.

He heard John chuckle and felt brotherly pats on his back, the troublemaker comforting the Iceman who got worked up so easily.

"Lighten up will you? I've got a great way to kill some time. Come on!" He pressured as he began jogging towards the stone stairs that lead to the upper floors of the museum. Like always, Bobby hesitated for a few moments, and then begrudgingly followed after his best friend who was already on the second set of stairs.

The two didn't exactly race per-say, but their was a definite competition as Bobby picked his pace up to keep John insight. When they finally reached the very top staircase, John leaned against the metal railing that was fixated in-between the two joined staircases, Bobby incidentally on the other set as the two breathed heavily.

"So..." Bobby gasped leisurely, heart beating slightly faster than average. "The point of that was?" He questioned, only to hear John wheeze a chuckle.

"Me and you are gonna race, last person outside the entrance of the museum has to do the winner's homework for a whole year."

He revealed his time-killing plan, Bobby feeling adrenaline rush through him as the challenge was stated.

"Why?" He questioned suspiciously, knowing John wouldn't risk something like that, because the two were the perfect rivals.

"Because I'm behind on my homework, and I need you to do it." He stated, clearly portraying that he was sure he was going to win. Bobby snorted rather indignantly, finding yet again he was being peer pressured into something that would get the two in deep trouble...again.

"You're on, and I know I'm going to win, you're lazier than any student in the school." Bobby said snidely, though a smirk crept onto his face as John wore a hurt expression at the comment.

"I'll have you know I'm really fit...that's why the girls all love a piece of _Pyro_." He said in a faked seductive voice, purposely slicking back his brown wavy hair which only made Bobby laugh. But within a split second, the two were glaring immaturely, egging each other on silently.

Without a direct _go_, the two speedily began sprinting down the many steps. There was no clear leader as they were neck and neck, having to dodge around or in-between people who were walking up or down the steps, Bobby instinctually apologised whenever he bumped into anyone. John focused on running faster rather than the people he was practically bombarding into, eyes snapping straight ahead or to a twist or turn as the museum held many different walkways.

He kept running, not truly focusing on anything, even when he passed Professor Monroe's group who were studying the civil war. None of the teachers noticed the two racing teens, but the guards did, and one quickly radioed their disruption before trying to chase after Bobby.

"Stop you two!" The guard commanded, Bobby briefly looking backwards to see the middle-aged lumpy guard wheezing and spluttering as he tried to catch them. He knew they would in massive trouble if they did stop, same if they didn't, so he just carried on running and actually managed to catch up, on John's heel literally as they passed the triceratops.

Unfortunately, there was a crowd of people entering through the entrance, right where they needed to go.

"Stop right now!" The guard bellowed, which sent a shock wave through Bobby as it sounded so much harsher than the command before, it sounded almost panicked. He may have slowed down for a second but then he simply shoved his way through the crowd, both of them turning around one last time to see that there were actually about five guards after them.

Bobby thought it was a little over the top, but didn't question America's security cautions, and pushed through the people (while saying sorry numerous times), his backpack that he took on every school trip lumbering heavily on top of him.

By the time he raced down the stone steps in the fresh New York air, John was already gasping on a sculpted lion, the lion proudly standing on top a marble cube. Bobby cursed inside his head, but also choked oxygen into his lungs as he also leaned against the pillar.

"Still think I'm lazy?" John croaked, looking up at Bobby who simply burst out laughing, same for John who couldn't even get his breath back, working a lot harder to prove Bobby wrong.

"Okay, okay, you won just don't rub it in." Bobby replied evenly, jumping off the pillar to stand straight. He outstretched a hand for John to shake, to seal their agreement. John smirked, but stood straight as well and immediately shook his best friend's hand firmly.

"You know...sometimes I really wish things were different." John mumbled, eyes casted to the concrete ground, unable to see Bobby's creased eyebrows.

An explosion shattered their eardrums, the shock wave sending them crashing to the ground. Screams and shouts echoed around them, but this was drowned out my high-pitched ringing in their ears. John and Bobby still had their hands clasped in a handshake, but this was hastily forgotten as they were showered in sharp shards as the cracking of flames became included on the chaotic music around them.

The two groaned, and then, limply tried to move their bodies to look back to the building. Bellowing orange flames danced out of the windows, staining the edges of them with black ash already as the every single window was smashed. John felt a pain in his leg, a deep, agonising pain. But he couldn't focus on it as his eyes bulged at the museum, unable to comprehend the reality bubbling around them.

An explosion, in the museum, _where their friends were_. Maybe not all of them, but they had all gone to the same school, they were all mutants, they could all have been _dead_.

"Bobby...Kitty, Piotr, Jubilee...they were _all_ in there." John whispered in disbelief, his throat dry, mind racing with different scenarios as he named every person he knew in the now burning building. There were so many, so many dead, and yet by some race _they_ had got out just before the explosion.

Bobby stared at the dancing flames, hating them, _loathing_ them. His chest heaved as he lumbered to his feet, releasing John's hand as he stumbled towards the building, some of the glass cutting his hands and face. He was going to freeze the flames, stop them, he had to try and save _somebody_.

But arms quickly clasped around his waist, pulling him back, even when he growled and struggled against them.

"Let me go John! Where have to help them!" He shouted, the ringing still in his damaged ears.

"We can't help them. We have to get out of here before the S.W.A.T or the FBI turn up!" John argued, yanking the Iceman away from the wreckage, even though in his head he wanted to help them too. But they couldn't, they were mutants, and the authorities would likely use that as excuse to detain them even though they had done nothing wrong.

After more tugs, Bobby finally came to his senses and the two hastily sprinted away from the burning building.

Never slowing as they ran, they didn't even have a destination...

* * *

**So, what did you think? **

**This is rather short but it's mainly an introduction of sorts, they will likely be longer in the future. Anyway, please review!**

**i only wrote this in a few hours, so, it's not going to be the best but I knew if I didn't upload it would likely get forgotten.**

**~Gothgirlstrikesagain**


	2. Run Mutant Run

**I did promise they would be longer, so now it is. **

**Thank you celticgothhardy for being the first reviewer of this story, really pushed me to finish this chapter. **

**I realise this is a lot to take in in one chapter, but I couldn't find a good place to stop, so, it's just all one chapter.**

**i don't know when I'll next upload, I'm trying to focus on another story so this is like a side story to do in the inbetween the other one.**

**I apologise in advance if the characters are OOC.**

**disclaimer: I only own ocs**

**with that done, on with the chapter...**

* * *

"Is it done?"

The monotone voice made him scrunch his hand into a fist. The woman was a sadistic bitch, but, like the good soldier he was he had no choice but to follow her orders. He trailed his tongue over his teeth, finding them rough with plaque, dental treatment not included in his line of work.

He carefully checked no-one was around, which was rather an understatement as he leaned against a grime-covered wall in the underground subway. Many people were shambolically trying to get into as many carriages as possible, the bombing in the Natural History Museum sending a shock wave all through New York, and like most scared sheep, they followed each other out of the city.

Still, the chaotic frenzy meant near no-one noticed the young man dressed in heavy combat-like clothing. A black leather jacket and matching baggy trousers made him appear like an average college student, but a navy blue Yankees cap hid most of his facial features, his wavy brown hair tucked inside the cap.

"Yes ma'am." He replied with very little enthusiasm, but noted that a third pair of FBI agents walked amongst the crowd, eyes clearly searching for anyone suspicious. He straightened his back and pretended to look as if he was talking smoothly with a girlfriend, fake blushes sprouting onto his cheeks, fooling the authorities effortlessly.

"There can't be any repercussions, my boss wants it to look perfectly like a mutant act...can I confirm this to him?" She asked with a slight robotic hiss, the young soldier feeling tingles of energy still radiating from his fingers, but he quickly flicked his hand and the tingling sensation stopped.

"Look, everything went as planned. It went smoothly. I don't give a crap what you tell your boss. I followed my orders to the letter, which was extra difficult as you never mentioned the fucking spandex squad were going to be there." He hissed humourlessly, rather bitter at the lack of information residing around the mutant superheroes.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and he used the spare time to see what was happening. The FBI agents were now forcing people away from the carriages, likely closing the subways due to the terrorist bombing, he had only a few seconds before he too would be filed back up to the surface of the always busy city.

"After your affiliations with Charles Xavier and his _school_...my boss believed the information would make you unreliable. Don't take it personally, not everyone is able to massacre their own kind...even mutants." She said sadistically, and he knew she would be wearing an almost invisible smirk on her sour face, and it forced him to scrunch his hand once again into a fist, radiating sparks of orange energy to pulsate lightly.

"I'm a soldier." He repeated harshly. "I follow orders...no matter who's in the crossfire." He sneered coldly, hastily slamming the rather old phone shut as he clambered up the stone steps, being tossed about in the sea of human bodies, all trying to reach the glorious sun on the surface.

He remained solemn, mind racing and completely in a different area than the subway station. Maybe it would have been harder if he had known Xavier's spandex squad and students were in the museum, but he still would have got the job done.

He was a soldier. There were always consequences no matter what orders he followed.

He remained in the tsunami until the first taste of the murky New York air entered his lungs, and then he quickly zipped to the side, attempting to remain unsuspicious as he followed the pathway down street. He clasped the strap of his rucksack tightly, the weapons hidden inside clanking together as he swaggered to his next mission.

True, the two teenagers who were framed for the bombing would be troublesome, for them anyway. For him, it just made it easier. Still, a little itty bitty part of him felt like he should give them a head start against the cops, after all, they wouldn't have been in the mess if it weren't for him starting it.

He concluded that he would use an amble amount of time to locate them and give them a head start. Still, he was positive they wouldn't want his help, but at the end of the day they had no idea about the rules of fugitism, he guessed it would take him less than half an hour to locate them.

He really had thrown them into quite a mess, but, he had orders to follow and it was just coincidence that they had gotten involved, be it minor and unknowingly.

However, as he strutted down to slab pathway, his mind had only one objective:

Get to Boston.

* * *

The boys hastily slammed the hotel room shut, John paranoid as he raced to the window, closing all the curtains with exasperating tugs, the material poorly designed as rays of sunlight still passed through the thin yellowing fabric.

"I thought they were going to recognise us for sure." John muttered, Bobby not honestly listening as he dumped his backpack onto the bed, not really noticing that there was only _one_. He emptied all the contents out and studied them, pondering, what was useful and how they should proceed.

They were innocent, all they had to do was go to the police and say it was just a coincidence. But it wasn't that simple, if only, they had ran away from the guards, acted suspiciously even if they didn't mean to. Bobby sighed, a single finger placed over his full lips as he counted all the inanimate objects in his possession.

One old phone he only used to keep his parents off his back, a few pieces of random homework, chewing gum, a spare denim jacket, pens, pencils and a battered old wallet his Dad gave him.

Nothing of real use, but then his mind sparked and he hastily grabbed the wallet. The brown leather was wrinkled with age, but Bobby couldn't care less as he opened it up to find a few bucks and a glorious credit card. He almost laughed he was so relieved, the credit card given to him for emergency money if it was needed.

"There's gotta be about three hundred on this, more than enough." Bobby stuttered to himself, placing the card back in gently as it was like miracle to the two. However, John was simply searching the place, not for anything in particular, but he needed something to do while he waited for Bobby's verdict.

In a flash he was on his hands and knees, head placed to the floor as he pulled the greying duvet up to look underneath the bed. A few cobwebs and what looked like a dead spider on its back with its many heavily legs enclosed towards its main body. He scoffed in disgust, but he had grown up in worse, and thus didn't take much offence at the poor hygiene of the hotel.

When he stood up again, he felt a glimmer of pain shoot from his leg, but not enough to cause him immense agony, so he simply ignored it. His eyebrows scrunched, noticing that there was only one bed. He was rather confused at this, removing the panic for a few moments as he pointed at the bed, mouth slightly open as he tried to stutter words out.

"Er...Bobby...why's there only _one_ bed?" He asked, almost suspiciously, to which Bobby snapped his eyes to John, only to give him a waver of a hand as he cupped it under his chin again.

"I just asked for a room, I wasn't being specific." He mumbled, clearly not registering what John was hinting at. Or more, what the _receptionist_ was hinting at. Maybe it was a bad time for it, no, of course it was a bad time for it, but John found it had to be talked about before everything turned even more surreal.

"You do realise that we are _two guys_...there's _one bed_...and I'm pretty sure that hot receptionist was giving us fangirl glances too." He hinted, nodding his head every time as he never took his eyes off Bobby. It was clear he wasn't really listening, but after a while, Bobby's eyebrows creased and he looked at John with mild horror.

"You think...she thought we were _gay_?" He finally asked, to which John made a little roll of his eyes, Bobby's innocence meaning he had to explain nearly everything. The two shuffled awkwardly until Bobby came to his senses and wavered a hand again, his other arm crossed over his chest.

"Look, right now we need to worry about proving that we weren't involved in a bombing. Not about sexual orientation, and anyway, why does it matter? _We_ know we're not gay." Bobby added, returning back to his thinking, unable to see John's embarrassed smirk, nodding his head with it.

"I get that that's top priority, but if we are sent down for this, I don't really want to be known as a queer bomber who's shagging his accomplice!" John shrilled, hands on his hips as he looked over to the TV fixated on a chest of drawers directly opposite the bed. Before Bobby could counter, he walked over to it and turned it on.

The colour rushed out of his cheeks as the moving image portrayed the same news reporter as before, only, the museum was no longer in flames as firefighters were dowsing them with spraying water. However, the soot stains still marked around the smashed windows, and he felt sick as paramedics rushed out of the building with rolling stretchers, multiple black body bags on top of these stretchers.

He wondered, was anyone they knew in those bags?

Kitty, Piotr, Jubilee, Storm, Dr Grey, Cyclops, Logan...

At least Logan had a healing factor and was likely alive. In bits. Possibly. But the others, more likely they were dead or badly injured. His jaw tightened as he glared at the news reporter, needing to direct his anger at _someone_.

_"In the last hour, the casualties have soared to eighty people either injured or dead, and yet new information is being released every minute. Not much is still known about the explosion or indeed the terrorists behind it, but it has been confirmed that this was a bombing, and that the people behind are likely mutants due to the significance of the explosion. The identities of the two Caucasians are still unknown, the FBI are urging anyone with information to come forward to stop this heinous crime happening again. Back to the studio." _

John angrily turned it off again, the panic running through him again as he pulled a hand through his brown hair. He twisted around to look at Bobby's back, finding he was still concentrating on the objects strewn on top of the bed.

He knew Bobby was trying to make sense of everything, get a good plan to act on, but the longer they took the more likely the FBI would get their identities which was practically their death sentence. After a moment of hesitation, John growled and stormed over to Bobby, standing beside him as he voiced his concerns a little harsher than he meant to.

"We have about half an hour before the FBI find out who we are, and then, they will come after us and arrest us before we even breathe a word. So, sorry for being a dick but hurry up with your strategic thinking before we have FBI breaking the door off its hinges." He hissed angrily, only to have Bobby turn to him with an icy glare, sending John aback slightly.

"Unless you have a fool proof plan rattling around your head, or some helpful information instead of whines, then you can shout at me all you like. But...we have just been framed of a _bombing_, John, if we do get done for this, it'll be for _years_." Bobby emphasised, trying to keep his voice at a reasonable tone even though his blood was bitterly cold.

"You really think I don't know that? Believe me Bobby, I know how the authorities work." John added the last part rather reluctantly, and Bobby noted the unsure tone, but found himself going over everything he had for the hundredth time. When he was sure he had everything, he hastily packed it all in the backpack, except the wallet, which he placed in his jeans pocket.

"I've got my Dad's credit card, I can get out at least three hundred which I'm pretty sure we are going to need to last for a while. I'll go out and get it and then we can-"

"Whoa hang on! Not that I'm all for thinking worst situation first, but we have a school Bobby, we just need to get there and talk to Professor X." John butted in, Bobby going to retort before his words sunk in. He was thinking worst case scenario, which was good thinking, but wasn't exactly helpful if it wasn't needed.

John was right, getting to the X-mansion and to Professor X would be the main objective. The question was _how_? With all the media focusing sorely on the bombing, and thus, their faces in the CCTV footage, quite a few people would recognise them.

But then, with the bombing, would people be more worried about getting out of the city to loved ones than a couple of shady teenagers? But they had to remember, mutants equaled bad in society, that alone was enough the make them be hated.

Bobby was about to voice his thoughts, when rather unexpectedly a beeping phone echoed through the hotel room. Both Bobby and John glanced at each other with bulging eyes, startled not only by the noise, but why it was ringing.

With a gulp, Bobby's clothes shuffled as he turned back to the TV, next to it the ringing phone. It was a casual hotel phone, the white shaded with grey and yellow to portray its oldness and uncleanliness. He honestly didn't want to pick it up, mainly because who the hell knew they were there? Unless, by some luck it was a wrong number.

With John not even _breathing_, Bobby decided to be the brave one and nudged over to the phone. He didn't answer it straight away, sweat forming on his palm as it skimmed over the phone connected to the base with one of those spiralling wires.

In quick succession, he picked it up and placed it to his ear. What stood out was the sound of honking horns, the person on the other end likely being on a busy street, though where was a good question to ask.

There was silence for ages, Bobby growing increasingly unsettled as he listened to the deep breathing on the other end, sounding rather masculine.

"Who is this?" Bobby finally asked, but found his voice broke into a childish squeak which caused his cheeks to bloom purple. The person on the other end chuckled, not maliciously, but amused by Bobby's crackled tone.

"Someone who wants to help you and your buddy out, squeaky." The person said sarcastically, indeed male, the gruffness easily detectable. Bobby found the name insulting, but kept quiet, intrigued by this unknown person.

"Were you the one that bombed the museum?" He asked through gritted teeth, his free hand clenching into a fist, causing it to turn blue with ice, misty fog rising form the iced fist.

Again another pause, and Bobby swore he heard the stranger gulp.

"It's complicated squeaky...I shouldn't even be talkin' to you right now." The stranger sighed, be it exasperated or not, Bobby wasn't exactly sure.

"Then why are you?" Bobby hissed, knowing that that wasn't a direct no or yes, which irritated and angered him immensely.

"You shouldn't have gotten involved. You being framed was never part of the job, but, it kinda worked in my favour because the FBI are busy looking for two mutant teenagers instead of me. Look, I know you probably hate my guts right now, I would be in your position, but bite the bullet and at least let me help you get out of the city." The stranger compromised, and Bobby heard the distinct sound of squeaking car breaks, followed by an angry argument between the driver and the stranger.

It was short lived, and the stranger seemed to carry on walking as his breath became increasingly flustered, but he didn't seem scared or ashamed of what he had done. In honesty, Bobby did hate the stranger, even if he didn't mean to, he killed all of Bobby's friends and peers, framed them for the bombing, and then had the nerve to call them and even admit it.

At that moment, Bobby held very little positive feelings towards the stranger.

"I fucking hate New York." The stranger muttered bitterly, clearly aimed towards the angered driver.

"New York hates us now because of you." Bobby quipped almost instinctively, and he imagined John giving him a thumbs up at the quickness and execution. Again, the stranger chuckled, obviously finding Bobby's comments comedic.

"I like you, you remind me of myself at your age. Look, you can't go back to the school because that's where the people I work for are hitting next, so stay _far_ away from it if you know what's good for you. Try and get some cash and then _get out_ of New York as quickly as you can, the FBI will be able to track you in minutes, or other high up authorities. Get to the bridge up by Harlem avenue park, the cops are shutting down all the subways so you're gonna have to walk it, but you better get used to it now." The stranger whistled, signalling that he thought they would be fugitives for a while.

Bobby couldn't understand all this information at once, if at all. The people _he_ worked for were going to invade the X-mansion, meaning, that this was bigger than one crazed terrorist. But then Bobby's mind couldn't understand why it was happening, to them, John and himself, what had they ever done to get involved in an extremist act?

"Why should we believe a word you say? _You_ set us up." Bobby accused in stutters, a migraine appearing across his forehead. His iced fist was becoming colder and colder the more the stranger talked, Bobby wanted a name, someone to outwardly blame for their situation.

"I told you...you weren't meant to get involved." The stranger replied irritably, Bobby getting under his skin slightly.

"Tell me who you are...and maybe we'll follow your _helpful_ suggestions." Bobby replied with more venom than he had meant to. He could feel John's eyes bore into his back, which was why he didn't turn around to face him, simply because he couldn't face the many questions he would have.

Long pauses seemed to be a continuum with the stranger, as yet again there was nothing but static-like shuffling and honking horns. Bobby wasn't going to let him not answer the question, he needed a name, he needed _someone_ to blame for the mess they were in.

"Firefly...that's all I can tell you." The stranger said finally, but the tone was confident and emotionless. The name clearly held more meaning than Bobby knew, but it didn't stop him from scoffing, knowing this was a nickname. Everyone at the X-mansion had some sort of nickname, and more often than not, it stuck with them for a lifetime.

"Okay _Firefly_, how the hell are we supposed to walk around in the open with everyone knowing what we look like?" He grumbled, daring Firefly, but he was surprised to find that he knew the _hide 'n' seek_ game quite well, speaking almost immediately after Bobby spoke the challenge.

"People in general will be more worried about leaving the city instead of two kids. The cops on the other hand...best to stay away, especially if the FBI have contributed your faces to cops all over the city. If you want a time limit, I say you got little over an hour to get the money and get over that bridge. Good luck Squeaky."

And so, the call ended with the loud click, leaving Bobby to bite his tongue sharply. He slammed the phone down, the whole messed up situation bringing out the worst in him, a worst he didn't know was there to begin with. With a sigh, he twisted around to see that John was studying him intently, waiting, the atmosphere stuffier than any sauna.

"I think that was the bomber, he said-" He stated uncertainly, only to have John shoot him a frustrated look and continued to interrupt him.

"You _think_? You asked him!" He accused, his panic turning into frustration the longer they spent in the dreary hotel room, knowing every second counted.

Bobby was becoming increasingly angered by John's interruptions, always when Bobby had more to say that would help them. He released his clenched hand, finding it was still flaking with glistening blue ice, even when he shook it and heard crackles as the ice creaked and cracked.

"He said it was complicated, and judging by how he said _the people he worked for_...there is more to this than some crazed extremist." Bobby argued his case rather well, in his eyes anyway, but John had other ideas as he flailed his arms angrily.

"Which means only more trouble for us...don't you even want to get this guy for setting us up?" John screeched, the last part going to a high-pitch he never thought John would reach. But they we panicked, tired, frustrated and just downright pissed off that they were framed for something they had no part of.

The cuts didn't hurt as much, more likely the anger dowsed the pain. Well, that was the case until John stopped shooting death glares at Bobby and hissed, his face scrunching into an expression of agony as he hastily slumped onto the bed. Bobby zipped to help him, worried as to why John suddenly groaned in pain.

"Fucking...fuck!" John cursed, leaning forward to grip the rim of his trouser leg, pulling it up exceedingly slowly to reveal flesh. He yelped as the fabric crawled over the cause of the pain. A shard of glass had sunk into the flesh, blood oozing from the critical wound as it dripped down his leg, while some of it began to dry and become flaky.

Bobby swallowed the vomit in his throat, the wound not all that graphic, but the thought of glass cutting into a vein or muscle made him feel giddy and sick.

"That explains why I nearly blacked out when I tripped over that ladies' bloody bag!" He seethed angrily, the dark comedy not at all comforting as Bobby and John knew it would have to be pulled out. The question was: _who_?

"You could've mentioned this a little earlier." Bobby grumbled, rather unsympathetically, but knelt down in front of the wound. John scoffed through a hiss, the shard causing a lot of discomfort.

"Well, we were kinda running away from a bombed museum...it's quite easy to forget a little piece of glass." He mumbled back, but clearly the piece of glass caused a lot more pain than he was letting on. Bobby shifted his eyes, unsure whether to just pull it out without John knowing, or to tell him to brace himself.

With a flash of his hand, he quickly yanked out the glass shard, John's scream turning into a pained curse at the end. The shard fitted perfectly into Bobby's hand, him likely being able to close his hand without cutting himself. Blood collected in his hand, the shard clear which made the red blood all the more vibrant.

John firmly squeezed his eyes shut, attempting poorly to not show weakness, a single wet tear rolling down his left cheek. Bobby couldn't blame him, the open wound looked even more prolific without the shard squelched into it.

Bobby rushed into the bathroom (strategically placed so that he could still see John, him rocking slightly as he tried to swallow down many curse words) and threw the shard into the metal mesh waste bin under the sink. He then proceeded to search for anything he could use as a bandage, and found a greying flannel dumped on the floor.

When he returned to John's side, he noticed that the flannel was likely the cleanest object in the hotel room. Without John's permission, Bobby crouched down and gingerly but quickly wrapped the flannel around his leg, extra careful when he brushed over the wound. He tied it in a very simple knot but one that wouldn't break in a hurry.

He stepped back and admired his handiwork, it wasn't much, but it would stop the bleeding. John didn't seem all that thankful, giving Bobby an almost perfect _I'm going to murder you_ look.

"A little forewarning next time." He grumbled, never dropping the glare in his brown eyes as he leaned over and pushed the trouser leg back down. The flannel clearly removed a little bit of the pain, but it created a bulge just below his kneecap which was rather prominent through the fabric.

"It would've hurt more, because you would've tensed and strained the muscles around the glass." Bobby argued, Dr McCoy's science popping into his head at the worst of times. John went to argue, and then nodded his head briefly to agree with Bobby's statement.

"Since when did you become a brainiac." John snorted, but Bobby ignored the childish comment as he stood up and pulled his backpack over his shoulders.

"The guy said we can't go to school because that's where the people he works for are going next. I don't know why they are, and I would give anything to go and stop them, but we're two mutant teenagers with nothing but an old phone and a credit card. Before you start arguing, we have to leave New York before the authorities arrest us. I'm going to go and take out as much money as I can, meet me at Third Avenue Bridge in one hour, if I'm not there..." Bobby trailed off, not having to speak the words. He didn't want to anyway, they sounded way too Hollywood style, but Bobby didn't want John to be picked up by the authorities because he was waiting for him.

He was sounding extremely bossy and leader-esk, but judging by how many times John had broken into panicked jabbering, he knew he had to be the calm strategic one. It paid off and John didn't even argue, he merely stood up (rather painfully as his wound still stung) and sighed exhaustingly.

"You gotta do what you gotta do." He mumbled, but wore a little smirk that Bobby copied. They shook hands in small good lucks, and then, Bobby reluctantly turned around and walked straight out of the hotel room. He didn't head to reception, he climbed down the many staircases but made a sharp turn towards a fire exit door, which surprisingly worked as it should.

He pushed all his body weight onto the door and swung it open, gasping in the contaminated New York as he found himself in a small side alley. The bricks walls were sprayed with graffiti, the stereotypical New York style, which for some reason calmed Bobby down slightly as he purposely walked out of the alley and onto the Main Street.

He walked quickly but with normality in every step, head lowered as he tried his best to hide his facial features. He had a feeling hats would be on the top of the shopping list, and definitely some new clothes. He had a whole list of items by the time he reached a bank, a medium-sized line in front of him.

It sat on a street corner, not exactly hidden so he guessed he would have to be quicker than planned. He remained as inconspicuous as possible, waiting (im)patiently as the line grew shorter, although, at a leisurely pace.

Every second he shifted, as if ADHD was attacking his system the longer he remained in the line. He felt the breath of the person behind him on his neck, the little dark blonde hairs standing on end.

When he was finally at the point of talking himself out, the man in front of him strutted away without a care in the world. Bobby gasped a little before hastily stuffing the credit card into the thin slot, hands shaking lightly as he read the _please wait_ for fifty times before the screen changed.

Every clack of a high heel on the concrete pavement, every honking horn, every every squeal of a car tyre. All of it was deafening in Bobby's sensitive ears, chest heaving, scared how long it would take before someone recognised him.

He slammed a few metallic buttons, and found the money count was slightly under. Two hundred and ninety-five and sixty cents. It was still more than enough, but it would've been nice for a round three hundred.

He clicked a few more buttons and began the transaction, only, his eyes shifted to catch a glimpse of a uniformed officer. He choked, but didn't run, waiting extremely impatiently to for the money to be spat out of the larger slot.

It was taking too long, way too long, the officer hadn't noticed him yet but he was a mere metre away.

"Hurry up mate." The man behind him grumbled, clearly also believing the transaction was taking too long. Just a few more moments, that's all he needed, a few more seconds and he could go unnoticed.

The money was spat at him almost in a holy way, Bobby gripping it tightly as he grabbed the card that was also shoved out, stuffing both into his backpack as he walked with it in his hands.

He thought he was out, only, the officer's radio went off with incoherent orders. Bobby paralysed, stricken with fear as the officer gave him a quick quirk of bushy eyebrows.

"Hey you!" He shouted, breaking Bobby from the paralysed state so he could sprint across the street, narrowly missing a yellow cab that would have run him over if he hadn't of slid over the bonnet, icy hand prints left like glistening crystals.

The officer was sprinting after him too, but he was older and didn't have as much speed and stamina as Bobby. He ran for his life, pushing past people, not even apologising this time round as he gasped for as much oxygen as possible.

His mind couldn't think straight, the word **_run_** being repeated over and over again in his head, never slowing or faltering as he heard more sprinting footsteps chase after him.

As he ran through the crowded sidewalks, he tried to slip his bag onto his shoulders, managing to do it just as he saw the Third Avenue Bridge in sight, surprised, believing he had been further away from it. He had no idea how long it had truly been since he left the hotel, nor whether John would be waiting for him or not.

What he did know, was that he had to lose the officers somehow. It was becoming increasingly harder to keep a fast pace, the adrenaline sparking through him the only thing that was keeping him from collapsing on the spot.

He inwardly thanked Logan's combat training, be it simply for making him run five laps around the school each lesson, being how he was still running even though every ounce of him was screaming for glorious oxygen which he couldn't produce quick enough.

He tried going down a back alley, similar to the one outside the hotel, only, this one held two exit points. He ran straight ahead until another officer appeared to make him stop abruptly, to which he twisted on his heels and hastily turned down the other alleyway, thankful that there wasn't another officer to cross him off.

He kept running, the stifling hot sun showering him as soon as he escaped the enclosed alleyway. He ran, hoping to get across the road so he could swerve down another alley which he could conceal himself in.

That was, until, a brunt and powerful force shattered against him. He had shut his eyes as soon as he heard the squealing wheels, therefore he was shocked to find himself atop the bonnet of a sleek black car, the front glass cracked from his mass slamming into it. He remained still for a moment, staring open-mouthed, manage to distinguish two very much confused FBI agents behind the cracked glass.

One was a male, even skin tone with his brown hair slightly spiked with gel. The other was a woman, older, perhaps late thirties as she gave him a comical open-mouthed but pissed off expression.

He remained on the bonnet until the stomping footsteps tickled against his left ear, to which he answered by pushing himself off the car and rushing across the road, pulling open a door leading to a building, the escape route not planned but he couldn't think straight as dizziness clouded his senses for a moment.

He sprinted down the aisle, the building turning out to be a church as a few occupants prayed in the pews, interrupted by his unexpected presence as he speedily rounded a corner leading to a fire exit door. It wasn't a vibrant door, merely a brown metal door which was fixated with the same metal bar that you pushed down.

He heard the slamming of the front doors opening at the other end of the church, before he himself slipped out of the fire exit door, closing it behind him as he leaned against it to catch his breath. He was in a pocket of wildlife, long uncut grass and a small drooping tree, the species he didn't know or care as he spotted a ladder leading to the roof of the church.

He tiredly pushed himself off the door and clambered up the metal steps, exceptionally loud as the metal was brown with rust. When he reached the top, he gripped the edge tightly so that his finger nails bent a little, the powerful grip simply because his legs felt like they were going to give way any second, shaken uncontrollably.

He always believed because he was a mutant, he could withstand more than a human, but this was proved wrong as he actually felt like stopping and letting the FBI arrest him. The only thought that was pushing him forward, was that John would be waiting for him on the bridge, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let him down, not when everyone else they knew was dead or worse.

He wasn't really taking much of his surroundings, focused on getting to his feet and jumping over a large cuboid object that was in his way, possibly a ventilation system, he wasn't sure as again he heard the slamming of the fire ext door below him.

The click of an unsheathed gun pounded his ears, jolting him enough to jumping over small gap in the buildings as he sprinted across a neighbouring roof. Finding a set of black painted metal steps leading towards the top of the new building, which was much higher than the last.

He should have climbed down, lower was better in terms of jumping. But he couldn't think, he just knew he had to get away. He grappled the railings at every step, taking doubles to make it quicker as he passed clear-glass windows. As the stairs twisted, he briefly looked down to see it was the determined woman that was hounding him down, which was truthfully a lot scarier than the man.

He carried on climbing quickly, heart pounding insanely fast as he caught his backpack on the last set of stairs, the gap which he had to climb through to get to the roof preventing the backpack from getting through.

He calculated his options, but knew he couldn't just leave the bag or he and John would have nothing. He slipped his hands out of the straps and tugged, pulling it free and impacting the back of his head against a metal bar, disorientating him a lot, and yet he still pushed to his feet and finally clambered to the top.

He was out, or he hoped, only to have this hope shattered into a million pieces as he reached the edge of the roof. He gripped the bricked edge, blurred eyes staring down at the street below, seeing that it was a long way down. But what made it even worse, was that the Third Avenue Bridge was right in front of him, almost mocking him in a malicious way.

"FBI I will fire!"

Bobby froze, the woman's voice not exactly hostile but full of authority and genuineness. Obediently, he turned around and shoved his hands in the air, the surrender all the more real as he saw the gun aimed at him. He wasn't going to argue with her, she was, in a word, a _matriarch_.

"Keep your hands up and turn around!" She ordered, to which Bobby did instantly, the surrender giving him a shameful chance to gasp in as much oxygen as possible, his legs shaking violently. He saw the other FBI agent point another gun at him as he turned around, eyes locked shut as he couldn't bear to see freedom smack bang in front of him.

"There's nowhere to run Drake."

They knew his name...did they knew John's too?

He heard police sirens below him, which drowned out most of the natural noises, one being his beating heart that felt like it was going to explode in his chest.

"Cover me." The woman ordered again, only quieter, obviously talking to her partner as Bobby heard her storm towards him. Officers were piling out of white fans, all of them with guns, barking orders at each other as they began surrounding the building. He wasn't honestly paying attention to the officers below, or even the ones on the roof, he merely stared in distraught at the damn Bridge in front of him, eyes glazed with future tears.

Maybe he was weak to cry, but he was exhausted, terrified and hopeless, the combination sending his emotions haywire. He did return to the present as hands forcefully pulled his left arm down, the clicking of handcuffs muffled.

Words began spilling off his tongue, he couldn't help it, and they came out as petrified stutters.

"It wasn't us...I swear...the person you're looking for left the city hours ago." He jabbered, the cold metal of the handcuffs irritating against his wrists. He could tell the FBI agent didn't believe him, the woman scoffing a little, though she was trying to hide it through exhausted gasps.

"You can tell us all about it went its over." She huffed sarcastically, only earning Bobby to choke back sobs. He was so close to just spilling there and then, what could he possibly do? He was being arrested for something he _didn't_ do.

But he had ran. This was his own doing, it was his fault the FBI believed it was him and John.

He hadn't realised his backpack was snatched by the woman until a beeping began vibrating from inside. He didn't turn around in fear of angering the officers further, but knew that the ringtone was from his phone.

"Is that a phone?" The male agent asked, his position being beside Bobby, gun pointed at him in case he did try to escape.

Though he did wonder, where exactly could he escape to? He was talking to Bobby, clearly asking whether it was something more _explosive_ than a phone. With a sharp nod of his head, he confirmed it was just a phone, unable to speak any words as his fear would betray him further.

"Check it." The male officer ordered the woman, and Bobby distinctly heard the sound of his backpack being zipped open. The beeping of the phone became louder as the woman took it out of the bag, holding it up, checking the number ID probably.

"Who's John? The other suspect?" She asked Bobby, who didn't say a word as tears began streaming down his face. It was all too much, he was a student for God's sake! Suddenly exam and homework pressure seemed like nothing compared to being a fugitive.

"I'd take that as a yes." The male officer grumbled. The woman answered it straight away, placing it to her ear as a young male spoke a question in a very awkward tone.

"Who the hell is this?"

"I'm Special Agent Jules with the FBI...quite a few heads you turned today." She added the last bit comically, but the strict tone sent John into silence for a moment. He gulped, able to see the scene play out above him. He squeezed the phone in his hand, aware that Special Agent Jules could likely hear the crackle.

"We didn't turn heads because it wasn't us." John seethed, but the conversation with Agent Jules was uncomfortable, any authority was.

"Then why run?"

"When you've been framed for a bombing and have your faces plastered onto the news...you don't really want to be standing around waiting for someone to recognise you and get the wrong idea." John countered, but not with the usual quick-witted sarcasm, him and Bobby were already on very thin ice.

The woman scoffed, clearly not believing it, but decided to strike up a conversation so the agents at HQ could pinpoint John's location. She was pacing, but twisted around whenever she spoke to see Bobby Drake's expression, which hadn't changed from the hopeless far away look. However, as soon as the phone was answered, a flicker of life had sparked inside him, never so happy to know John hadn't left him alone.

"Glad you called, we're just about to take Drake in...are you going to come quietly too John?" She asked it as if the only good answer was a yes. John squeezed the phone, face unreadable as his mind clattered.

_**Clonk, clank, clonk, clank...**_

"We've planted a second bomb. If you won't let Bobby go...I'll set it off."

There was near complete silence for a full thirty seconds, the police sirens and cars around the building seeming to become muffled. John stared at the rooftop from behind the blue faded bars of the Bridge, his eyes glancing between Bobby and Agent Jules, Jules finding the threat a nuisance rather than a danger.

"You're bluffing." She stated, but John already had a counter at the ready.

"You really want to risk it Agent Jules...I'm pretty sure the authorities have to take every threat seriously."

Another very long pause, but even John could see the irritation on Agent Jules' face.

"You do this...you walk away...you'll be signing your own contract to jail for a long time." Agent Jules warned, but it was just urgency, John knew he had got them in an awkward position.

"No we won't...because we _will_ prove were innocent." He promised, only having to wait until Agent Jules agreed to his terms. She liked pauses apparently, taking her time as she paced the roof. But then her green eyes focused on Bobby, him having been forced to his knees by the other Agent who gripped his left shoulder and cuffs tightly.

"Wilson, we're falling back...they've got another bomb." She told the young agent with a sigh. He instantly went to protest, but her icy glare made him shut his mouth. She turned to the other officers who had climbed to the roof, rolling her eyes a little before wavering her hand.

"All units fall back!" She ordered, one officer repeating the command into his radio. There was a sudden rush as the officers on the ground clicked their guns, putting them on safety as they edged away from the building, same for the officers on the roof, leaving only Agent Wilson and an extremely pissed off Agent Jules.

"Get him up." She told Agent Wilson, who didn't listen for a moment before pulling Bobby to his feet rather roughly. The officers were climbing back into their vehicles, incoherent orders still being shouted.

"Uncuff 'em." Jules sighed, only to have Wilson shoot her a protesting confused look.

"I said uncuff him!" She spoke harshly, which in turn made sure Wilson knew who was in charge, and it definitely wasn't him. He growled then proceeded to slot the key into the locks, purposely yanking them off so it scraped against Bobby's skin, though the cuffs were slightly frosted with ice.

Mutants...there was only ever one explanation.

When the cuffs were off, Bobby turned around and looked at Wilson, he didn't seem built for FBI work, something more physical as he actually looked rather bored working under Agent Jules. He didn't speak his mind though, merely tightened his jaw as he roughly wiped his stray tears away with his sleeve, earning a mocking chuckle from Wilson.

"You got what you wanted John...we're leaving Drake now." She spoke into the phone, watching as Bobby pulled on the backpack, pondering whether the boy was actually capable to bomb the museum. She gave Bobby the phone, but made sure to make very little contact.

"Thank you." Bobby croaked, gripping the phone in his hand with the tiniest of smiles on his face. He wasn't trying to bribe her or trick her, he was just thankful she hadn't taken the bag or the phone with her. She nodded her head, but wasn't really conscious of doing so as the two agents backed away out of a metal door on the roof.

When they were out of sight and the police sirens drifted away, he sighed and placed the phone to his ear.

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you're voice right now." Bobby spoke honestly, exhaling loudly as he regained some energy.

"I thought you thought I was a dick." John commented, which earned Bobby to chuckle a little.

"You are" he confirmed "but you're a dick that just lied to the FBI." Bobby hissed, even if the lie just saved him from being arrested.

"A little gratitude would be nice." John grumbled, Bobby still grateful to hear a familiar voice that wasn't barking orders.

"I'll thank you when I see you."

"Well...look at the Bridge then."

At this, Bobby searched for John on the said bridge, unable to see anyone until he glimpsed a brown leather jacket. John gave him a little wave, the pyromaniac quickly humoured by Bobby's hysterical expression.

"How'd you get this number anyway? I never even told you I had this phone." Bobby questioned suspiciously, buying a bit of time before meeting John, in case the authorities were still sniffing around.

"I kinda used it once, good thing I decided to put my number in it too." John replied calmly, as if him using Bobby's phone wasn't a peek in his privacy. Honestly, Bobby couldn't careless anyway, John was always the one to fake innocence at the simpler things, it was more than once he had used or gone through some of Bobby's possession. Bobby would do the same, but John didn't have much belongings to go through.

"Just wait there, I'll get down as quickly as I can." Bobby said quickly exiting through the metal door the officers had come and gone from, though he was a little cautious unless John's threat hadn't worked. He was slightly unsure whether the threat was the right thing, yes it got the FBI away, but it would make their search for innocence all the more harder.

It actually didn't take as long to reach John as Bobby had thought, John cantering towards him with a millions questions. Bobby was rather content answering most of them, mainly things like _did you get the money?_ Or _how did the cops find you?_ Or _do you have any battle wounds, you look a bit out of it?_

He had to admit, the questions were becoming tiresome and it wasn't like they had time to spare. Even though they were metres away from escaping New York, it didn't mean they had any sort of freedom. They had attracted the attention of the FBI, they knew their names, or at least Bobby's full name, it wouldn't be long before they figured out John's full name.

It must've been the credit card, they must have been monitoring people who were taking out a lot of cash. Bobby hastily slipped his bag of his shoulder and searched through the bag, he sighed with relief, the money was still in there along with his other possessions.

"So...have we got another destination?" John asked, slipping his phone into his jacket pocket, a hand being pulled through his hair, clearly an act of uncertainness and anxiety.

"Boston" Bobby said instantly, thinking about it as he was jogging towards the bridge. "My parents live in Boston...it'll take a week, but it's somewhere right?" Bobby said, needing confirmation that this was the right decision. Strangely enough, John nodded his head, brown eyes never leaving Bobby's crystal as they knew it was just them on their own now.

"Close relatives will be the first people they'll interview, but we can go through New Haven along the way, get resources there." John added, apparently beginning to realise that panicking wasn't the solution to what was happening around them.

"You sure about this? Once we cross the bridge...that's it." Bobby warned, but John was more determined than the Iceman knew, grabbing Bobby's bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Come on, let's get moving." He said, before beginning the trek over the bridge, Bobby keeping up with his increasing pace beside him. John walked with a limp, from the leg injury, yet he didn't even show irritation from the wound.

As soon as they would reach the other side, that was it, no other help but between themselves.

The X-mansion was meant to prepare them for the outside world, a world to share with humans...being fugitives weren't what they had in mind...


End file.
